Into the river we go again and with the rain pouring down. The horses balk at first but after a few hard kicks they carry us onward. I look back and look back again to see if the hostages follow us, especially that dark-haired lass.

"As if we aren't wet enough, now we have to swim with the salmon," Baine complains loudly.

"Perhaps some of their wisdom will rub off on us," wryly remarks the Night Raven.

My horse shakes his head as if to deny that possibility. Stubbornly, he lays back his ears and turns again to the mud-slicked bank. When I pull on his mane, he comes to a defiant halt. We stand there in the current, completely bogged down.

"I think we've gone far enough to hide our tracks," Da decides, much to everyone's relief. "Let's move towards the road but go alongside, keeping to the trees."

"We should have taken the healer's helper as hostage," I grumble while we struggle out of the mucky shallows towards higher ground. "A good lookin' lass like that would be worth something, eh? Faramir himself might have paid -"

"Look there!" Hadaig pulls up so suddenly that his horse has to churn its hooves on the slippery bank to keep from falling backwards into the Boinne. Following to where he points, through the fog and the trees, I can barely make out a large shadow moving on the hill ahead.

"What's this?" Da exclaims. "A camp? Sean, m'boy, leave your horse and creep close as you can. We'll wait here."

I slide off my mount and slog through the mire. The rain lets up a little as I climb the hill. I spy a line of horses, more than I can count, tied at the edge of a fairly large camp. On guard are two spearmen wearing the colors of the Irish MacRoths. I dare not come closer, as the spearmen are taking turns walking up and down the line in both directions, sharp on their watch.

By the time I get back to our little band, the rain has stopped. Baine has spread her cloak on a bush to dry in the sun. She's combing out her long black tresses and that reminds me of the lass we left in the cave. Maybe we'll find her again when we raid the keep.

"What're ya lookin' at, y'moon-eyed calf?" Nion welcomes me back by grabbing my shoulder and shaking me till my teeth rattle. "What did you see, lad? Tell!"

"M- mm-MacRoths," I stammer, "A war band, looks like. Come all the way up here to raid the Niafer keep in return for that attack on An Caidreamh Suiri, no doubt!"

Da throws his arms around me. "Good man!"

"They've fallen for our trick, they thought it was the Niafers!" Hadaig snorts and slaps his thigh. "Now the MacRoths will do our work for us and we can pick the bones afterwards!"

We stand there all grinning at each other like a pack of wolves around a fresh kill.

"What do we do now, Da?" I ask Nion. "Shall we join up with them? Or be quick and raid the village while most of 'em are up at the keep?"

Nion rubs his beard. His smile is thoughtful and evil.